


Explicit Series of Directions

by Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD)



Series: Directionless [3]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Character of Color, Directedverse, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-14
Updated: 2007-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisTGD/pseuds/Aris%20Merquoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has fallout--life choices, experiments, previous engagements. A series of linked conversations and actions, and people trying to find in one another a little understanding, a little self-examination, a little warmth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Explicit Series of Directions

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://commodorified.livejournal.com/profile)[**commodorified**](http://commodorified.livejournal.com/) for beta help. This story (as Directionless) takes place in the universe created by [](http://helenish.livejournal.com/profile)[**helenish**](http://helenish.livejournal.com/) for her SG:A story Take Clothes Off As Directed.

#### 1\. House and Wilson

When he opened the door, Wilson was standing on his step, clutching a suitcase, eyes red. His shirt was buttoned to the collar, but it didn't do much to disguise what was missing from around his neck.

House let his eyes flick over Wilson's throat just long enough to make the point, then met his eyes. "C'mon in."

"Thanks," he said.

"I have some of that flavored water you like to drink," House said as he turned and led the way in. "Or you can play with the tops and have beer."

"Wine coolers would be great," Wilson said. "Several of them in a row, actually."

House grunted and went to the fridge to dig out a couple bottles. "So... what caused the argument?"

"It was the same argument," Wilson said. "Julie wants kids. _I_ want kids. But I don't want to leave my job to _raise_ kids. It just got..." he shook his head. "She's been sneaking out. Seeing other people on the side."

"Too bad you couldn't tie _her_ down," House said, passing him a bottle.

Wilson exhaled, exasperated. "House, I know you're disgusted by the sex that normal, healthy people have," he said, "but can you fake understanding for maybe half a minute?"

"I'm plenty understanding. You can sleep on the couch."

He brushed past Wilson toward said couch and sat down facing the TV. After a minute, Wilson followed, twisting the cap off his sub poison and sitting down next to him with another expressive sigh.

"So she threw you out?" House finally asked after a respectful silence punctuated only by swigs.

Wilson shook his head. "I left," he said. "She asked for her collar back, and I... left."

"Did you throw it at her?"

"No!"

He scoffed. "You're never going to match the explosiveness of Chase's breakups if you don't try."

"I don't want..." Wilson threw up his hands, then clutched his head. "I'm forty years old. I can't deal with this. I was lucky to get Julie. I don't want to be one of those subs you see in bar corners covered in makeup and leering at any top who gets too close."

"You've got money," House pointed out. "Plenty of tops willing to overlook a few divorces for that steady paycheck."

"You're so romantic." Wilson shook his head. "I just got uncollared. Again. You know what they say about subs like me."

"Mmmm," House said. "Either that you're intractable or you need a good spanking."

Wilson smiled grimly around the mouth of his wine cooler. "Got a paddle? Maybe from you it'll take."

House rested his beer bottle against his forehead. "Probably a bad idea."

"Why?" Wilson snarled suddenly. "Why is it such--Julie already assumed we were, what with how much time I spend with you."

"Too bad for her," House said. His beer was almost empty. He finished it and set the bottle on the table, then pushed himself to his feet. "I'd let you be first in the bathroom, except everyone knows that subs take forever."

"House..."

He turned around. Wilson was staring up at him from the sofa, wounded and vulnerable. Slowly, he got to his feet, took half a step closer. "I do want..." he said softly. "Please?"

"You're exhausted," he said quietly. "Go to sleep, we'll talk in the morning."

"Greg--"

"I'll _only_ make it an order," House cut him off, "if it's the _only_ way to get you to leave me alone right now."

Wilson flinched. "I'm sorry."

He sighed again. "Right. In the morning. Get some sleep."

#### 2\. Cameron and Foreman

"I am never listening to anything that Chase says again."

Foreman quirked his eyebrows and ran a thumb back and forth on his glass of beer. "That's going to make diagnostics hard, but okay."

"About _sex_," Cameron clarified, and knocked back half her glass.

"So I take it the experiment didn't work out."

"Ugh," she said. "Never give a sub a free hand. It just goes places you don't want to go."

He snorted and shook his head.

She curled her hands around her half-empty glass, slouching. After a minute, she asked, "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About me. Am I just screwed up?" She shook her head, slowly. "House thinks I'm a sub, Chase thinks I'm... I don't know, but not a dom. I don't know what to think."

"I think you should stop worrying what other people think," Foreman said. "Do what makes you happy."

Cameron rolled her glass between her hands meditatively. "Problem is, it sort of requires another person."

He sighed, and tried to determine if his comments would make it through her fog of self-denial, or if she'd blow him off completely. After weighing the options, he said, "The best advice I have? Don't try to generalize from one bad experience. The only way to find out what will work is to actually talk to the person you're in bed with."

"Which will get me kicked _out_ of bed by any reasonable sub."

"Well, you know," he said, "not all switches have to be as crazy as Chase."

"God."

"It's a thought." She grimaced and he shrugged. "You don't have to prove anyone right or wrong, but experimenting might go better with someone into that."

She set down her glass, carefully, and buried her head in her hands. "I wish this whole thing had never come up."

"Ignorance is bliss," Foreman agreed, and finished his beer.

#### 3\. Wilson and Chase

Wilson didn't want to talk to House the next morning, and House seemed just as ready to let the conversation wait until later. Much later.

He also didn't want to go into work with 'visible failure' stamped on his throat, but there didn't seem to be anything for it. He tied his tie slightly too snug and tried to slip into his office unnoticed. It felt like all the nurses were staring.

The white coat was armor. He checked his pockets and his dosimetry by reflex. Then he sat behind his desk, stared at the case files piled on it, and tried to focus on something--anything.

He'd been sitting doing nothing for exactly an hour and forty-three minutes when there was a knock on his door. "Yes?" he said. It was probably House. Or Cuddy. Or an appointment he'd forgotten while staring at the cases on his desk and his clock.

Chase poked his head in, then stepped inside while he was staring blankly. "Hey," he said. "I heard... well."

The nurses had been staring. Wilson nodded, jerkily. "Well."

Chase was quiet for a moment, toying with the locks on his manacles. Finally he said, "Look, I know you don't have time right now, but I owe you an ear, at least. If you want to talk..."

He did want to talk--well, he wanted to let the words pour out until everything made sense again, which it probably wouldn't, not for a long time. "Thanks."

"Sure."

The rest of the day... went. House mostly ignored him. He got a terse "I'm sorry," from Cuddy and a doubletake from Cameron, but that was all.

The bar Chase knew wasn't one he'd been to before, and he didn't recognize any PPTH staff when they went in. As far as the waitstaff were concerned, they were just a couple of subs out for drinks after work, which was fine by Wilson.

He nodded at Chase's manacles. "Those new?"

Chase looked down, startled. "Hm? Oh, yeah." He grinned. "Alexis. Met her at a party on Friday."

Friday, he'd still had a hope of saving his marriage. Chase saw his expression change and gave him a sympathetic grimace. "Here. Start drinking. What happened?"

"She was unhappy," he said. He took a sip of too-strong rum-and-coke, the alcohol sitting numb on the back of his tongue. "She wanted me to be something I'm not."

"Pretty, perfect house-sub?" Chase asked.

He snorted. "Basically. She wanted me to quit my job and raise kids."

"You're head of your department."

"Yeah? That doesn't matter. A bottom's greatest achievement, after all, is the creation and maintenance of a household." He may have been laying the sarcasm on a little thick. Chase smiled sympathetically.

"I'm not that," he continued. "I'm not... I don't know how to be what people want me to be. I have to focus on work, but I want... I don't know what."

"Someone to take you seriously?" Chase offered.

"I don't know what _House_ wants," he said, without really knowing why.

Chase stared at him, unblinking, for almost a minute. "Sorry?"

He sighed. "I moved in with him... temporarily, until I find a place."

"Oh." Chase seemed to digest this, then nodded. "So you two are..."

"No," he said, and it really shouldn't have sounded that bitter.

Chase leaned his chin on his hand and toyed with the straw in his cosmopolitan. "But you're interested."

"God," he exhaled. "I don't... I don't want to screw up our friendship."

Chase raised an eyebrow.

"But yes, he's--"

"I know," Chase said wryly.

Wilson shook his head. "I used to think he only fucked other tops, that he was completely homosexual. But I've seen him take subs home. As a distraction."

"Hardly a ringing endorsement."

He laughed, hollowly. "Maybe he'd like me better if I could switch."

"Y'ever try?"

He looked up. Chase was looking at him seriously, drink in hand, raised eyebrows.

His mouth was very dry as he asked, "Are you..."

"Well, if you're interested." Chase took a sip of his drink, looked up again. "Are you?"

He pointed at Chase's wrists. "What about... Alexandra?"

"Alexis. It's not like she collared me." Chase grinned mirthlessly. "And I'm not that kind of boy."

Wilson looked down at his drink. Dutch courage. He took another swallow and said, "Well, I'd ask 'your place or mine', but given the circumstances..."

Chase's bed had a gorgeous cast-iron headboard with art nouveau curlicues running through it, and D-rings anchored at various points along the frame. He watched Chase strip naked, then pushed him back onto the bed, ran his hands over his arms, his chest. Chase hummed contentedly in the back of his throat, and lost a little of his haughtiness, a little of that always-confident smirk.

_I can do this,_ he thought. _I can just... do what I want._

He pressed Chase's hands over his head, clipped his manacles to some of those wrought-iron whorls. Then he pulled his clothes off, trying not to think too hard about what he was doing, trying not to let his hands shake as he grabbed condoms and lube from the box on Chase's nightstand. It wasn't difficult, he was almost surprised, to get himself ready, just like he was going to fuck a top who'd asked for it, which was almost what this was.

Chase's eyes glazed over almost as soon as Wilson pushed inside him, gasping at the unfamiliar tightness, shifting his hips to try and account for the awkward angle, the press of Chase's erection against his stomach. He thrust, and Chase practically mewled. God, he was a better bottom than Wilson was. And probably a better top, because whatever Wilson was supposed to be getting out of topping, it wasn't working. He wasn't feeling anything like the warm certainty, the rush of connection that he felt with a really good top--that he'd felt, until recently, with Julie. Seeing Chase off in subspace didn't make him proud, it made him envious. And when Chase finally begged him to come, and he answered "Yes" without really thinking about it, the first thing he said when Chase's vision came back was "I'm sorry."

Chase blinked sweat out of his eyes, then smiled. "'Sokay. Here..." He twisted his hands, and managed to unclip his own manacles. He wiped his hair off his forehead and pushed Wilson up, off, down onto the mattress on his back. And it really was like he'd thrown a switch, like the manacles were just decoration, now, as he stroked down Wilson's chest and wrapped his hand around his prick, sliding the condom off and then returning to stroke him, gently, watching his face to know when to slow down. And when he leaned down an whispered, "It's okay, I've got you," Wilson closed his eyes and gave in, just like falling, just like diving into endless blue.

When he came back to himself Chase had curled him on his side and nestled up to his back, and his thumb was gently rubbing along his collarbone. "Thanks," he croaked.

"Hey, my pleasure," Chase murmured into his hair.

A bitter feeling stung him sharply behind his ribs, came out his throat as a laugh. "I really sucked at that."

"Not totally," Chase said. "But... yeah, don't think you're a switch."

"Well." He rubbed at his eyes. "Screw that idea."

Chase chuckled. "Yeah, well, it was worth a try."

He reached up and held onto Chase's hand, and tried to be comforted by that thought.

#### 4\. House and Cameron

House asked her to stay when he told Chase and Foreman to take off, and drew the office blinds. "You screwed up," he said.

She swallowed, and it made a lump in her stomach. "What... are you going to do about it?"

"Oh, I think the standard punishment should be sufficient deterrent. Wouldn't want to waste effort being inventive." He pointed at his desk. "C'mon, I don't have all day."

Reluctantly, gingerly, she stepped forward and spread her legs to shoulder-width, bent forward until her hands were splayed against old files, a copy of People, the latest New England Journal of Medicine. She could hear his cane tap against the floor as he took a step closer, then an intake of breath as he changed his weight.

"Five strokes with the cane," he said.

"Your cane isn't an approved punishment tool," she pointed out.

"Fine," he said, "I can go get an _approved_ cane. And by the time I'm back here I'll have upgraded it to ten."

She swallowed, hard. "I don't think--"

"Five with this." He swished his cane through the air. The wood made a whistling noise as it passed just above her back, and she shivered. He rested the wood on the small of her back, so she could feel it through her shirt, firm and unyielding. "Ready?"

"Yes..."

He raised the cane, swished it... and tapped her gently, barely a touch.

"Are you counting?" he asked when she was quiet.

She looked up at him, startled. His eyebrows were raised. "I--I thought you'd hit me harder," she stammered.

"Oh," he said, nodding sagely. "You want me to hit _harder_."

"No, that's okay, I--"

She was stopped by a solid spank of his cane against her ass, pain blossoming, making her gasp.

"I want you to _count_."

"Ahh..." she said, then swallowed. "One."

He nodded, raised his cane again.

The second blow was at an angle, making an X of tingling, smarting nerves across the seat of her pants. "Two," she said, choking around the shock and pain.

He aimed lower on the third swing. Right under the curve of her ass, forcing her onto tiptoe, gasping as the cane smacked the lower part of her cunt. "Gah! Three!"

"No commentary," he said, and brought the cane down over the top of her ass for four.

"Five," she moaned when he landed the last blow in almost the same place as the first. She straightened slowly, fabric rubbing the painful stripes on her ass, blood rushing to her face as she tried to look him in the eyes. He was watching her, calm, considering.

"Are you wet?" he asked when she finally managed to look at him.

Her flush rushed back, and she felt fevered. "W-what?"

"Are you aroused?" he asked again. He reached out and traced her cheek to her chin, then let his hand fall to her breast, until he was rubbing his fingertips across her right nipple.

She gasped. "I--"

"Why don't you check?" he said, drawing a line down her stomach, and then deftly unfastening her pants and unzipping her fly.

Moaning, she followed his fingers with her own, slid her hand into her underwear. He tilted her head up to look at him as her fingers reached her clit, soaking in the moisture of her arousal.

"I want you to come," he told her. "Now."

She brushed her fingers across her clit and came screaming.

Awakened by the shock, alone, Cameron found her sheets tangled around her legs, her hand splayed over her sex. She whimpered into her pillow and punched her mattress again and again and again.

#### 5\. Cuddy and Foreman

"Did you hear about Wilson?" Cuddy asked him when they happened to be washing their hands at the same time.

Foreman snorted. "House told us about it. Also told us to shut up and stay off his back."

"Yeah, because he doesn't want any competition?"

"That's one theory." He shook water off his hands and grabbed a couple paper towels from the dispenser. "But I think he could have had Wilson any time he wanted, collar or no collar. I mean, you've seen the way Wilson hangs around him."

"Yeah." Cuddy shook her head. "If I could get _my_ subs to act like that..."

There was an edge in her voice that made him stop and look back at her. She was staring at her reflection in the mirror, mouth pressed into a hard line.

"Some trouble on that front?" he asked gently.

She took a deep breath. "I... just want a sub who will actually engage me in conversation, not just be an ornament." She smiled, unhappily. "Is that too much to ask?"

Foreman raised his eyebrows, thought over the last three girls he'd dated. "Sometimes I think so."

"Ha."

"Well, you know, Wilson's free, now."

She turned to look at him. "You're suggesting I fight House for him?" From her expression, he couldn't tell if she was appalled or intrigued.

He shrugged. "What's the worst that can happen? You ask him out, he says no."

"Or files a sexual harassment suit."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Wilson's not that kind of sub."

"Good point." She wiped off her hands and pushed past him toward the restroom door, professional smile back on her face. "I'll see you the next time House does something insane."

"See you in a couple minutes, then?" he said, and she laughed.

#### 6\. Chase and Cameron

"I hear you're not talking to me about sex any more," Chase said to her when they'd left the conference room.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not _listening_ to you about sex any more," she said. "Slight difference."

"Cameron, everyone fucks up sometimes," he said. They stepped into the elevator, waited for the other passengers to clear out. "You can't expect things to go right every time. You have to pick yourself up and start over."

"Wisdom from the greeting-card industry," she said, jabbing the button of their patient's floor.

He sighed and crossed his arms. "Seriously. You can't go back to being a dom and pretend that none of it ever happened. That it _isn't_ happening, that you don't fit into that box any more."

She looked at him. He was staring at her, expression tight, almost vulnerable.

"Maybe," she said, "maybe it's worth being a little less happy, if it means I get to keep my life."

She expected him to argue, but all he said was, "Maybe it's lucky that you get to make that choice."

#### 7\. House and Foreman

House hesitated after sending Chase and Cameron out on errands for blood and urine and other bodily fluid samples from their latest patient. Foreman waited in his chair, figuring this was either going to be great or terrible.

"You occasionally give good advice," House said magnanimously when the door was closed. "What do you tell someone you don't want to sleep with when they really want to sleep with you?"

Foreman raised his eyebrows. "'No but I'm flattered'?"

That earned him a scoff. "I'm not flattered. I'm annoyed."

"Sure, but that way they don't feel rejected."

"Well, they should learn to deal with rejection. They've had to face it often enough, it should be a habit by now."

"Yeah, but it still sucks." Foreman glared at him. "Why is everyone coming to me for advice lately?"

House did a fake doubletake. "Have you looked in the mirror? You're way with-it and together. You've got it going on, man. Obviously."

"My last sub just walked on me."

House pursed his lips. "Okay, maybe not quite so with-it and together. I'll still trade you."

"I don't want to sleep with Dr. Wilson _either_."

"Yeah, but you're apparently oh-so-good at saying no, whereas I'm regarded as a pitiless bastard." He mulled that statement over for a moment. "Which is true, but some people take that as a flaw."

"Ugh," Foreman said. He put his hands over his face, took a breath, then looked up at his boss. "You two are just going to have to settle your own problems like adults. That way, those of us who keep our social lives outside of work can stop having to listen to you at every turn."

"Oh, c'mon," House said. "Isn't listening to me complain way more entertaining than taking MRIs?"

"I have my own problems," he said, annoyed. "I can't play Magical Negro for all your relationship needs. Make your own screw-ups." He stood up. "Do you actually want me to get an MRI?"

House shrugged. "Only if you want a picture of his brain. Which, come to think of it, might come in handy."

Foreman rolled his eyes and went to talk to Brenda.

#### 8\. Cuddy and Stacy

"Hey, Stacy. It's Lisa."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "God. What has House done _now_?"

"Nothing, actually," Cuddy said, trying to keep herself from smiling at the shared frustration. "I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out this weekend. Play tennis or something."

"Lisa," Stacy said, "what's going on? You never call just to hang out unless you want to vent about something."

Cuddy sighed and leaned back in her chair, phone tucked into the crook of her neck. "It's Wilson," she said. "Have you heard?"

"That he and Julie split? Yeah, he called me." She paused. "He's moved in with House."

"Oh," Cuddy said, tasting a slight edge of bitterness. "That figures."

"Do not tell me that you're head-over-heels in love with the trainwreck," Stacy said.

"Not head-over-heels," Cuddy said defensively. "But y'know, he's back on the market, he's erudite, educated, pretty as any of those brainless things you see on match-dot-com..."

"He's a trainwreck," Stacy repeated. "Let House have him and focus on finding a sub who won't ignore you for his best friend who he may or may not be sleeping with."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered. "Do you really think he and House are going to have a go at it?"

"If House gets over his stupid fear of subs, yeah," Stacy said. "He just needs to know he won't break him. Objectively, I think it might do both of them some good."

"And in the meantime..."

"Until House either tops him or breaks his heart, James is still off the market," Stacy said firmly. "Look, my firm's having a party next week. Let me introduce you around to some of the new hires we picked up this round. They're smart, they're eager to please, and they're not joined at the hip to Gregory House."

Cuddy took a deep, cleansing breath, and tried to put the thought of James "Trainwreck" Wilson from her mind. "Sounds like a plan. Thanks."

"And you wonder why you keep me on speed dial." Stacy was grinning on the other end of the line. "Drive another stake into House's heart for me."

#### 9\. House and Wilson

"So how was playtime with Chase?" House asked casually the next night.

Wilson froze, then carefully set his wine cooler back on the coffee table. "I... learned a few things," he said.

"Like what?"

"Like... I'm definitely, totally not a switch."

House snorted and took another swig of beer. "I could have told you that. Saved you the trouble."

"Oh, yeah, I'm out one orgasm. Terrible waste of time, that," Wilson said, not too bitterly, he hoped.

"Orgasms are easy," House said.

"They're _better_ when they're shared," Wilson pointed out. "That's why we--and by 'we' I mean 'normal humans'--have sex."

House sighed. "I'm not sleeping with you."

"What the hell do you want?" he asked, trying not to be snippy. "It's not just tops. I don't get it."

House opened his mouth, closed it, looked away. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his vicodin. Wilson felt his mouth going slightly dry, but couldn't bring himself to swallow.

"I don't have longstanding relationships with subs," House said after he'd stuck the bottle back in his pocket, "because in a longstanding relationship, I have to respect the person I'm sleeping with."

Hot, burning anger, like pain right behind his sternum. Prelude to a heart attack of the most metaphorical kind. "And you don't respect subs, is that it?"

"I _respect_ you because I'm _not_ sleeping with you," House snapped, glaring at him. "But if I fucked you, you'd start doing all those goddamn submissive... _things_."

"I..." the anger was still there, transmuted into a warm thrum in time with his heartbeat. "That's just what I do in bed. Not who I _am_."

House shook his head. "I've tried, and it doesn't work. And I don't want to screw up our friendship because of it."

Silence. After a moment, House turned away, back to his beer. Wilson turned and stared at the television set, letting the phosphorescence wash over him without absorbing the picture.

"What if..." he said after a while, "I didn't do any of the 'submissive things' that make you lose respect for your partners?"

"Then you wouldn't be a submissive," House pointed out.

He shrugged. "There are lots of kinds of subs," he said. "I don't actually enjoy humiliation, or pain, or following pointless orders because someone has a power trip. Who knows? We might actually be compatible."

House gave no indication of actually listening to him. The only sign he knew Wilson had stopped speaking was an almost-silent sigh. Then he levered himself to his feet. "First in the bathroom," he said. "Don't stay up too late or you'll get cranky."

Wilson waited until House had closed the door to bury his head in his hands. The breaths he was taking didn't feel like laughter, but it was almost funny enough to be true.

When his head was clear, he stood and crossed the hallway to the bathroom. The tap was running, the sound of bristles on teeth barely audible over the water. He tapped on the door, once, twice.

House opened the door with the toothbrush still jammed in one cheek, eyes narrowed. Wilson stared him down for a moment, took a breath, and said, "My safe word is 'infarction.'"

House's expression went blank with surprise for a moment. Wilson tilted his head to the side, shrugged. "Just if it comes up."

He turned and went back to the couch. It took a surprisingly long time for House to shut the door again.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Explicit Series of Directions (Heart Unharmed Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/389122) by [recrudescence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/recrudescence/pseuds/recrudescence)




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